


He Was Fleeting

by ShiranuiFion17



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cutting, Depressed Hinata Shouyou, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiranuiFion17/pseuds/ShiranuiFion17
Summary: He was in pain and no one knows.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 71





	He Was Fleeting

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters.

Hinata groans loudly as he hears the melody of his cellphone ringtone. He eyes his window and noted that the sun hasn’t risen yet. He craned his neck to check the time on his digital alarm clock and muttered to himself unintelligently as he reads 3:49 AM. He slumps back on his bed, pointedly ignoring the ongoing chorus of Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer. He lets it ring as he chucks a pillow on his ears. When the ringing stops, he let out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes. 

As he sinks back to nirvana, he is cruelly yanked back by Luke singing, “Is it easier to stay? Is it easier to go?” Hinata cursed as he sat up, rubbing his temples. He blinks as his mind processes the melody of the ringtone.

Once his muddled mind finally registers to who the song plays for, he lunges for his phone and pressed the green ANSWER icon. “Hello mom?” Hinata answered as cheerfully as he could. He hears some movement at the other end of the line and some unfamiliar voices speaking until he hears his mother greeting him with a tired voice, “Morning Shou, sorry for calling early.” Shouyo bit back a scream. “It’s okay, Mom. Anything I can help you with before you arrive later?”, Hinata asked as he eyes the date in his digital alarm clock. It was the 3rd Friday of the month, the one time in every month his mother comes home from abroad. “I won’t be able to come home today, Shou. I sent you your allowance and bill money for this month. I sent extra so treat yourself,” his mother answered as he hears her fingers rapidly typing away on her keyboard.

Hinata felt his heart drop.

He didn’t know that he was clenching his fists tightly until he feels the coldness of his blood as it gashes out of the newly opened wound. He wiped the bloodied hand against his pants and made a mental note to himself that he’ll clean it later. “But I haven’t seen you in four years. You promised,” he said pettily as he feels his body go limp. He tries to picture his mother’s face, her smile, her curls, anything, but he couldn’t. “Next month, Shou,” his mother said before she ended the call. 

Hinata stared at the phone on his hand, with the call ending, the screen portrayed his wallpaper; his once ecstatic mother standing beside her once flamboyant father who embraces his wife as she cradles his once firepit of a sister and Hinata himself mid-jump in front of the couple, grinning from ear-to-ear. He stared and felt his world starting to crumble. 

He lets it.

He sets his phone aside on his nightstand and lays down. He stares at his ceiling, unconsciously reaching out for the razor under his mattress and cuts his wrists. His mind wanders aimlessly in his thoughts and feels the tears falling.

And he welcomes it. 

<<<>>>

Hinata groggily opens his eyes when he hears his alarm clock going off with its ear-piercing screech. Craning his neck, he looks up to his alarm clock and reads 5:30 AM. He sits up and rubs his face, trying to wipe the sleepiness away when he hissed as he feels the sting on his arms and palms. He looks at the damage and cursed. He treks towards the bathroom so he could clean himself and his new cuts. 

Thirty minutes later, Hinata walks down the stairs in his uniform and his sweater tucked inside, palms and arms clean and bandaged, and makes a beeline to one of the cupboards in the kitchen. He opens the cupboard door and frowned. He made a mental note to buy more trail mix seeing as he only has one left. With his breakfast at hand, Hinata dashes away from the hollowed house, grabbing his sports bag waiting by the door, hops on his bike and pedals away. He was at his school’s gate when he recalls that morning practice is cancelled. He walks his bike towards the bike rack, eating his breakfast on the way, thinking on how he’ll spike Kageyama’s tosses during afternoon practice when his palms are still healing. By the time he chains his bike, he decided on skipping practice. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees the celestial sun climbing its glorious throne, basking them all with its prestige. Hinata turns and watches the sun rise, unwavering, and scowls. He scowls as the sun blinds them all with its shine but suffers from its own heat deep down. 

The vibrant sun will set and wallow.

Turning away from the sun, Hinata puts on his mask as he walks towards his classroom. For now, while he’s outside and in the open, he’ll be the sunny Hinata. The sunny Hinata that everyone loves. The sunny Hinata that everyone adores. For now, depressed Hinata will have to go away.

And it does.

<<<>>>

The day went on pretty much the way Hinata had expected. Students piled in their classroom groan as they listen to lessons they are forced to learn, teachers teaching for the sake of teaching and birds soaring high and mighty, mocking the supposedly superior beings with their freedom.

He talks to people who approaches him with a blinding smile that he had perfected over the years and exaggerates his actions as a plus point. It works with everyone he’s come across, whether they know him or not. He’s heard of the nicknames people associate him with which usually paints him as a happy-go-lucky guy and hearing that itself tells him that he has been successful in keeping his hollowed being in check.

The only thing relatively interesting was when he had talked to Coach Ukai, telling him that he wasn’t feeling well and that he’d like to go home and rest. Nishinoya had ran to him and told him to take good care of himself, Sugawara had embraced him, Asahi had told him different ways to make porridge and Kageyama had yelled at him for being sick.

Before he stepped out of the court, he turned to take a good look at his teammates. He knew that his life was in shambles. He knew what was bringing him down. He wasn’t ignorant of his pain, but he couldn’t let it all out no matter how much he needed help. Behind his mask, he was fleeting. 

He watches Coach Ukai scold Kageyama, Tanaka and Nishinoya for being too loud. He watches Daichi mimicking Kageyama’s angry expression beside Sugawara and Asahi who laughed. He watches Tsukishima and Yamaguchi converse amongst themselves, tuning out the noise their teammates were making. He watches Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita laugh at whatever is on the phone that their sharing. He watches Kiyoko teaching Yachi and Takeda-sensei their attack hand signals. 

He watches and smiled. But in the inside, he was screaming. His teammates gave him the warmth he had yearned for years. Here they were, conversing casually, unbeknown of the knowledge that their vibrant middle blocker was hurting. They gave him more love than his own mother does in four years, but Hinata couldn’t help feeling that he doesn’t belong. Here they are, laughing and smiling to themselves yet, all Hinata could see was pieces of puzzle coming together, and there was no empty slot for him. 

So, he smiled.

When he reached home, he went on with his daily tasks. He lit candles and incense for his late father and sister. He cooked dinner for himself and ate. He did the dishes and vacuumed the house. With all that done, Hinata did his homework. He didn’t mind the atrocious numbers and letters; he welcomed the distraction. With mathematics keeping his mind occupied, he didn’t think about the incident that ruined his life. He didn’t think about the coffins that was buried beneath the Earth. He didn’t think about his mother packing and leaving him alone. 

With his homework done, Hinata pulled out a pad out paper from his drawer and wrote. He wrote of his past and loneliness, of his sister’s and father’s death, of his mother’s neglect, of his teammates’ blissful ignorance. He wrote and wrote, to him it was therapeutic. To him it helped. Helped him vent out all his frustrations. 

With that aside, Hinata wrote of different things. He wrote letters. Letters that are addressed to his mother, addressed to Kagayama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Ennoshita, Narita, Kinoshita, Daichi, Sugawara, Asahi, Kiyoko, Coach Ukai and Takeda from Karasuno, addressed to Kunimi, Kindaichi, Oikawa and Iwaizumi from Aoba Johsai, addressed to Ushijima, Tendou and Goshiki from Shiratorizawa, addressed to Aone and Koganegawa from Date Tech, addressed to Atsumu from Inarizaki, addressed to Hoshiumi from Kamomedai, addressed to Bokuto and Akaashi from Fukurodani and addressed to Kenma, Kuroo, Lev, Yaku and Inuoka from Nekoma.

Satisfied, he set it all aside and slept, another day crossed out of his numbered days.

<<<>>>

When the time came and they all woke up with letters from their posts addressed to them, they expected it to be letters from their desired university or letters from their relatives. They weren’t prepared to process the true meaning of the letter. 

No one was.

How could they when he was smiling and laughing all the time? How could they when he was always fooling around with his friends? As they throw sunflowers to his grave, they could only pray to their God for safe passage to the afterworld. 

They prayed and wonder why bad things happen to good people.


End file.
